


pretty eyed, pirate smile (you’ll marry a music man)

by DropshipMyths



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Light Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-26 02:22:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropshipMyths/pseuds/DropshipMyths
Summary: Bellamy and Clarke have a large age difference, and he's insecure she'll leave him. So she shows him how good they are together.





	pretty eyed, pirate smile (you’ll marry a music man)

He's moody. She hates when he gets like this, avoiding eye contact and refusing to talk to her about the demons he grows to larger-than-life sizes in that beautiful brain of his. Outside the windows, rain comes down in steady, steel grey sheets. Their Lyft driver - who really should consider Calvin Klein underwear modeling - curses under his breath at the brilliant red line of brake lights in front of them. There must have been an accident. Things are never this busy in Arkadia at this hour.   
  
She taps on his knee gently, and he turns away from staring at the shop awnings crawling by. His eyes are dark and hard to read, his mouth solemn.   
  
"Bellamy? Are you ok?" Her words are barely a whisper.   
  
But the Lyft driver just turns up the music another notch or two and hums along to a song that might be the Goo Goo Dolls.   
  
"Fine," he nods and turns back to the window.   
  
Her brow crinkles, and she feels a little like crying. She'd thought it was a fun night out with her coworkers from Polaris, the marketing firm which hired her six months ago after a six-month stint interning after grad school for next to no money. She remembers how proud Bellamy had been when she told him she'd been hired as the company's new junior graphic designer. He'd beamed bright as sunlight and swooped her up into his arms, twirling her around while she laughed right there in the middle of the car shop. That night he came to her apartment with roses and two big sparkling balloons (one a butterfly that said congratulations and the other a unicorn because, he later told her, the woman in the grocery store's floral department told him they were in vogue).   
  
He'd grinned at her on their way out the door to her favorite Italian restaurant to celebrate. "Nothing but the latest for my favorite Millennial." And she'd winked back. "Good of you to keep up with the times, old man." It was a running joke between them. They'd met when Clarke's car gave out on the side of Route 100, and he'd been nice enough to stop and offer to help her out. She was just 24, a new arrival in town with a passion for design after breaking free of her hometown where her mom had strongly encouraged her to study medicine. (She'd majored in biology all through college before graduating and realizing she just didn't see herself building a life in healthcare).   
  
Bellamy, she'd learned over the thank you dinner she bought him at a diner with vinyl green booths and an actual juke box, was an Arkadian, born and raised. He was 32 with freckles that wiggled when he laughed and a deep, soothing voice. He knew a strangely large amount about history and engineering because that's what he'd been studying at Virginia Tech before his mom died unexpectedly. So he'd transferred to community college to take care of his younger sister because they "didn't have anyone else who gave a damn about them." Clarke remembers unexpectedly grabbing his hand across the table when he'd admitted that. It was warm and rough, anchoring her just as much as it thrilled her. Car mechanics became his new focus because he "had bills to pay and already knew Pike was looking for good help at his shop." Clarke drank in all his words, growing more curious by the minute about this dark-haired stranger with oil stains on his cargo pants but enough gentleness to play tic-tac-toe with a little girl named Madi who squealed when she saw him a few booths away and came running over to give him a hug.  
  
As the night wore on, Clarke had scooted closer infinitesimally, letting her knee knock against his under the table. He didn't move his leg, and neither did she. And when he drove her back to her apartment she melted at his hesitance to let her walk to her door alone. So she accepted his offer to be escorted to her new place, arm brushing lightly against his in the moonlight and heart hammering in her ears. He gave her another bashful grin and shuffled his feet under the light near her door, digging his hand into his pockets. He told her it was nice to meet her and hoped to see her around again. She'd clucked her tongue, shook her head, and grabbed him by the collar of his black jacket to taste just how sweet he was for herself.   
  
Sweet to the point of being self-deprecating, it turned out. When she turned up at Pike's the next Saturday afternoon with a picnic basket and a classical myths book she'd checked out from the library, his initial grin had morphed into a frown. Didn't she want to hang out with people her own age? "Why when I like you better?" she'd responded before grabbing his hand and guiding him out to the pretty park with the little pond in the center and swishy weeping willow trees. The first time he pressed her down into his mattress three weeks later, she learned just how much better she liked him.   
  
Though they've been together a year, they've only recently moved in together. Well, she moved in with him to be more accurate. He had the steady job working at Pike's Mechanics on the outskirts of town for years, after all. Which meant he had some savings. Not to mention the white bungalow with green shutters that was simply aching for a woman's artistic touch.   
  
They get dropped off at the mailbox, and Clarke stumbles up the drive, trying to get her hood over her head to block the downpour while finding the house key. Bellamy stays close behind her, letting his hand rest briefly on her hip to steady her when her ankle wobbles on the uneven cement. Inside, he turns on a few lamps and then immediately heads for the room they've converted into an office/library of sorts. It has all his books plus the space she needs to play around with design software. It's where he goes when he needs to think and doesn't want to bother her. It used to be Octavia's room, but she hasn't needed it in years.   
  
Sighing, Clarke changes into a long, silky midnight blue nightgown. It's not risqué - it's got a modest V-neck and cap sleeves and ends at her ankles. She makes herself a cup of tea and then decides she might as well brew one for him too as a peace offering, though she's not sure what she did wrong. A few minutes later, she knocks quietly on the door.   
  
"Bellamy, can I come in?"   
  
"'Course you can."   
  
She swallows and then pads into the room, finding him in an armchair with one hand nested in his black curls and the other flipping the pages of something.   
  
"What do you have there?" She puts down the tea and walks cautiously to his side, draping one leg up on the side of the chair and breathing a baby sigh of relief when he doesn't tell her to move or draw away.  
  
"Just an old photo album," he grumbles.   
  
The picture he's staring at is square shaped and faded behind plastic. In it, a petite girl whose dark hair is twisted up and away from her forehead with butterfly clips is holding a CD player and furry owl-looking creature next to a Christmas tree while the taller, skinnier boy beside her is displaying a box that says Gameboy.   
  
"That's a cute picture of you and Octavia." She places a delicate hand on his shoulder.   
  
Bellamy looks up at her, eyes full of an emotion she can't quite name. "You weren't even born yet. Bet you don't know what a Furby even is."   
  
Clarke sighs, shoulders sagging with a bit of emotional weight leaving them. Now she has an idea what's going on at least.   
  
"You didn't have fun tonight, did you, babe?" she hums into the side of his hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Too many crazy kids?"   
  
"That's not it," Bellamy returns, "I like Jasper and Monty and Raven's all right, but--" He falls completely silent. Clarke is going to wait him out, as long as it takes. That's just what they do for each other. She pushes some of his lengthy hair behind his ear and rubs the back of his neck. His arm finds her waist, must be muscle memory, and brings her in closer to his side.   
  
"That Finn guy," he huffs. "The way he was looking at you..."  
  
"Finn's just a coworker, Bell. Not even a friend, I swear," she says immediately, brows furrowing. "He's with Raven anyway."   
  
"I know," Bellamy huffs. "But that doesn't mean a damn thing. People cheat, Clarke."   
  
"Are you implying I'd cheat on you, because--"  
  
"No, That's not what I meant." He looks tired, worn down as he rubs his hand over his face. A little bit of stubble is starting to grow in. He worked hard all week, is coming down with a cold, and on the only night he had off when he'd already gotten into a fight with Octavia over the phone, she told him they had plans with her coworkers. "I mean him, Clarke. I don't, I don't know." He shakes his head, meeting her gaze. "I'm lying. I do know. He wants You.”  
  
She scoffs, pulls her mouth in like she's sucking a lemon and leans backward. "That's ridiculous!" she cries.   
  
"It's not."   
  
"Well even if he did, I would never do that to you! I don't even like him."   
  
Bellamy watches her with more sadness.   
  
"But down the road, there might be someone you like better, closer to your own age. Someone who knows what the fuck Tumblr is and how to reach your target market with it."   
  
"Tumblr is bullshit, and you're better off without it."   
  
It only earns her the tiniest curve of his lip upward.   
  
"You were happy with them, Clarke. Doing shots with Raven, singing karaoke. Making videos on your phones or whatever it was you were doing with Harper."  
  
"I'm happy with you, Blake. You make me very happy." She sits on the ottoman beside him and wraps her hands around his bicep like she's trying to hug it.   
  
"I'm too old for you," he mumbles. "I can't keep up with milkshakes at 1 a.m. and clubbing til 3. I don't want to."   
  
"You don't have to. I don't want to either."   
  
He shoots her a look full of something like anguish.   
  
"But you should, Princess! You're young. You've full of life. You deserve to have everything, and with me..." He stares down into his lap.  
  
"Hey," Clarke says sternly, placing a palm on each of his shoulders and putting her face in line with his. "Look at me."   
  
When he does, she sees a single tear hugging his lash line. It cracks her heart right open. "You give me everything I could ever need. I love you."   
  
"Someone else could--"  
  
"Could nothing," Clarke says, sharper. "You're it for me, Bellamy. So what's really going on?"   
  
Bellamy cups her cheek in his palm, and she nuzzles against it, climbing into his lap.   
  
"Don't you want someone who's going somewhere, baby? Who finished college and can get promoted and give you the sort of life you had growing up?"   
  
She shakes her head, bemused.   
  
"You are going somewhere, Bellamy! And you're going with me. You know I always support you doing whatever you want."   
  
"But what if this is all there is for me?" He squeezes her hip then rubs over it. "What if I just work in that shop for the rest of my life?"   
  
"If that's what you want, then that's fine by me," Clarke whispers. "I don't care what you do as long as you're happy. But if it’s not, I’ll help you get wherever you want to go."   
  
Bellamy huffs like he doesn't know what to do with her answer. Reaching into the back of the album, he pulls out a piece of paper and unfolds it. It's got the Virginia Tech letterhead. His acceptance letter to college dated 2004.   
  
Clarke takes it from him, afraid he'll crinkle it in his current frame of mind and smiles reading over it. "You're a very smart man, Bell. You can finish this degree if you want to."   
  
"Yeah, sure."   
  
"You can!" she insists. "There are online classes now, or honestly, Tech isn't that far away, just an hour. You could commute if you wanted. We'd have my salary and the money you'd saved, and I could ask my dad for a loan--"  
  
"No," Bellamy says sharply. "I can provide for you."   
  
It's the other side of dating an older man - he likes caring for her. Most of the time, she likes it, too.   
  
"Ok," Clarke tries to keep her voice level. "We'll figure something out if this is what you want to do, but, ummm..." He watches her expectantly. "Can I ask what brought this on?"   
  
"Finn. The one who wouldn't stop staring at your chest," Bellamy's hand comes up unexpectedly to paw at one of her breasts, and she gasps, mouth falling open. "The one who wants to cheat on his girlfriend with you."   
  
"You don't know that!" Clarke snaps. She should get out of his lap, out of his grip, but she doesn't move away.   
  
"He wouldn't shut up about all the girls he used to screw at Tech and whatever he got into with his frat brothers, and." He sighs, looping both hands behind her and pressing them into the small of her back, drawing her closer. "That was 15 years ago for me, Clarke. And one of these days you're gonna realize I'm never going to amount to anything and leave me."   
  
Snapping like a live wire, she whooshes forward and presses a hard kiss to his mouth. "That's not going to happen, you ass," she breathes into his ear.   
  
Bellamy clutches at her waist, a drowning man in need of a life raft.   
  
"You can't be sure of that. Nobody can be."   
  
"I am," she tells him, reaching down to roll up the edges of her long nightgown. "Because I want this," she gestures between them, "you, me, for as long as possible. I only want you."   
  
His eyes darken, and he walks his fingers up her spine.   
  
"Clarke," he breathes, a little more wrecked.   
  
"I mean it," she continues. "You've got dreams, but I have them too, ok?"   
  
He does grin at her for real this time. "Oh yeah? What are they?"   
  
Clarke kisses his collarbone jutting out over his shirt before moving her mouth over his and kissing him a little desperately. He responds in kind, knotting his fingers in her short blonde hair and grunting into it. When she draws back, her lips are swollen. She hopes she doesn't blush too much.  
  
"Well now that you've asked," she murmurs, voice breaking on the last word. "I want to have your babies."

Bellamy freezes beneath her fingertips, large hands sliding to her hips and rooting themselves there.   
  
"What did you just say?" It's gravel his voice, hot rubber tires scraping over rocks.   
  
Clarke looks up at him hesitantly from under her eyelashes, knocking a piece of hair away from her face and biting her lip. She smoothes the sleeves of his T-shirt over his shoulders. One has a small hole at the bottom, which her fingers toy with.   
  
"I want you to get me pregnant," she tells the center of his chest in a rush because now that she's started, it's like the floodgates are open. "Repeatedly actually. I want this house full of little curly haired monsters with tan skin and freckles and--"  
  
" _Clarke_."   
  
He's careful with her now, bringing up a hand to cup her jaw and stroke a thumb over her cheekbone.  
  
"Yeah?" she blinks sweetly at him at last, eyes full of the softest, mistiest variety of love.   
  
"You tryin' to drive me insane?" It's a strangled growl, a choked plea.   
  
But she moans all the same when his big hand slips right under her nightgown and wraps itself under the side of the waistband of her underwear, tugging. It tightens the material everywhere, dragging the damp fabric harder against her.   
  
"No," she sighs, lacing her hands daintily around his neck. "Just telling the truth. It's about time you knew."   
  
He nudges his nose against hers for a short moment and she giggles. It's always fun to see his freckles up close. Bellamy presses his forehead against hers, so they breathe the same air for a moment.   
  
"We're not ready for that, Princess."   
  
She shrugs a little. "We could be. Polaris gives six months maternity leave and has on-site day care. It's almost unheard of. You only have one year to finish to get your degree. Then you could be teaching middle school history like I know you want to.”

He smiles a little at the words, and she continues, encouraged.

“You'd have a good schedule, all those holidays and summers off. Pike would keep you on at the shop in whatever way you wanted until it was all done - you're his favorite."   
  
"Been figuring all this out in that pretty head of yours, huh?"   
  
Clarke grins when she feels him twitch beneath her.   
  
"You don't have the monopoly on maturity, old man."   
  
His lips are soft but confident when they find hers, stealing her laughter and replacing it with the faint taste of peanut butter from his milkshake earlier. Eager, she presses down against him, kissing him excitedly until his mouth finds her neck and starts sucking a true mark there.   
  
She sighs, losing her slim fingers into his thick hair. "You always know what to do."   
  
"Isn't that what a woman looks for in her baby daddy?" he teases, nipping her pulse point with his teeth.   
  
Clarke pulls away, surprise written all over her face. Bellamy takes the opportunity to start tugging off her nightgown. His eyes settle on the heavy swells of her breasts. Her nipples are small and sharp in the middle, peach pink in contrast to the ivory-lilac of the flesh surrounding them. He tweaks at them, and her head falls back on the relaxed muscles of her neck.   
  
"Does that mean yes?" Clarke asks, running her fingers through her wavy mane and widening her eyes at him. "You want to have a baby with me?"   
  
Bellamy's mouth against her collarbone tickles causes a sudden fit of giggles. When his gaze returns to her, it's full of fire. "Yeah, Princess. That's what it means."   
  
She smiles, delighted, until his fingers slip right into her underwear and begin stroking. She twitches when he shifts them inside her, gripping his shoulder hard enough to leave nail marks. 

  
"So we don't need, uh, anything tonight?" 

Clarke never liked the bloated, hormonal way birth control pills made her feel, and the idea of an IUD being inside her pretty permanently freaked her out, even with a doctor for a mom. She was lucky Bellamy didn't mind using condoms with her.

"Nope, I've got everything I need right here."   
  
He scoops her up bridal style while giddiness courses through her. It's a short trip down the hall to their bedroom. Bellamy drops her onto her back on their moon grey sheets with enough enthusiasm for her spine to bounce once.   
  


Bellamy's expression darkens as he watches her, and he hastily divests himself of his pants and T-shirt, leaving miles of lean, tan muscle for her mouth and hands to explore. He settles on the bed beside her as she removes her own clothes. One hand glides feather-light up and down her belly once it’s exposed. It slips lower after a few seconds, and he raises a dark eyebrow at her. “Do you need me to—“

“No,” she shakes her head. The idea alone has been enough for her.

He grins, biting down on his lower lip. “You ready for your baby, Princess?”

"Yes," she murmurs, reaching her arms up to stroke his back and using her heels to pull him closer as she wraps herself around him.   
  
He slides into her gently, capturing her mouth in a lazy kiss as he does. She tenses, but he waits for her to stop squeezing his side and start breathing normally again before he increases the tempo.   
  
He looks down at where their bodies meet, satisfaction coloring his face. "You take me so well, sweetheart.”

  
She lets her head fall back against the pillows, feelings too intense to reply. She can feel everything as he rocks his hips into her again. Clarke's absolutely surrounded by Bellamy Blake and his woody cologne and pants and flecks of stubble and contracting abs. It's different without anything between them, more personal and visceral. And she likes the way she feels under his hands – precious and delicate.

  
"You're beautiful, Clarke," he manages as she lifts her hips to meet him, a crackling igniting low in her hips. "Gonna love watching you with my kids. Gonna be such a good mom.”  
  
"More," she whines.

His panting mouth leaves a kiss on her forehead then she’s not sure where his body begins and hers ends. Something catches deep inside her at his movements, and her mouth falls open. His gaze locks her into place below him, full of emotion. She nods her chin at him when she feels him start to tense, soothing a hand up his side. It’s over with a shudder and a groan. He buries himself into her neck, and she wipes circles into his back in slow, sweeping motions. When she can breathe again, she kisses his temple and enjoys his radiating body heat.

“Is that what you wanted?” he whispers into her hair.

She nods minutely, pulling him in for an easy, lingering kiss.

“We’re going to have beautiful kids,” she tells him.

He laughs loud and beautifully. 


End file.
